


Alastor

by katane (read2day)



Series: Alastor/Spirit of Solitude [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:10:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/read2day/pseuds/katane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shore leave, a cabin - Janeway's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alastor

She shivered, the rain coursing down over her face and mingling with the tears. The wind cut through the thin cotton of her dress, moulding the wet fabric to her skin and removing any protection from the elements. Shivering again, she hugged her arms around herself as she wandered slowly despite - or perhaps to spite - the weather.

It seemed that the storm within her grew faster and blacker than anything this planet could throw at her. Suddenly Kathryn laughed at the melodramatic turn of phrase that her subconscious had produced, a laugh that sounded strained, unpractised. Her face grew bleak as the laughter died, her thoughts turning inward again as they had done increasingly of late. Too many deaths, too many reminders of what she had done.

The wind changed direction, the biting rain easing. The frantic dance of trees died down.

Kathryn was well aware that she needed a counsellor. The burden of command was something expected, something understood, but never something intended to be shouldered alone. She sometimes wondered whether StarFleet had more counsellors than captains - it certainly felt as though there was at least one for each ...

... but this wasn't StarFleet anymore. She brushed the thought away, annoyed, then took it and examined herself as the idea persisted in her mind. Had she, they, changed so much? Certainly the Maquis seemed integrated, but into what? She'd never run the strictest of 'Fleet ships, but what was she running now? From what was she running?

Kathryn shook her head at the chain of her thinking, trying to grab at the less introspective thoughts. Was this still a 'Fleet ship? She asked herself again, forcefully. Her mind co-operated and she grew less aware of the cold, the rain, as she catalogued the breaches of 'Fleet policy, the departures from the tried and tested rules she'd lived by for so long in the Alpha Quadrant, and eventually settled into contemplation of the crew - no, the community - she led now. When had they stopped being 'Fleet? Had they ever been 'Fleet in this quadrant? Did it matter ...?

... Well, did it? The question startled her, and Kathryn snapped out of her reverie to realise that the lull in the storm was ending, the quiet eye that had encircled her in her thoughts was giving way to a eerie howl. She looked around and, spotting the path that had led her through the forest and her thoughts, began to run. She stumbled over roots, splashing through puddles with complete disregard for her clothing, pushing her way against the wind and the rain, slanting almost vertically against her now as it slashed through the trees. Leaves hovered and dove on the rain, pulled from branches by the force of water, and Kathryn brushed them from her face as she ran. Like a mantra, her earlier thought came back to her, repeating over and over again ... from what was she running? From what was she running? From what was she running?

She hiccuped a desperate laugh, unsure whether the water on her face was tears now, or rain, and not stopping to find out. The refrain that sang through her mind refused to be pushed away by logic, by the obvious answer, forcing its way into her mind through the cracks in her composure that were opened by the physical effort of trying to get back to shelter. Kathryn slipped, recovered, and carried head-on at full tilt until she fetched up against a cabin. Bracing herself against the wooden side she sucked in air, sheltered from the rain but not the cold by the overhang above, until she was no longer gasping.

"Kathryn?" A voice called her. She started, the cabin was supposed to be empty ... and the voice wasn't one she wanted to deal with right now. Why was he here? How did he know ... he must've heard her thud against the cabin when she reached it. Logic. One step, one thought at a time, and she'd deal with this. Like she dealt with everything. Kathryn suddenly bent double, pain stinging her as the problems she'd tried to escape caught up with her again.

"Kathryn" Again. Closer, though, she thought hazily. A hand reached to her shoulder, then arms gathered her up. "What are you doing?" Whose voice was that, she wondered? It should be mine ...

... but it wasn't. A familiar scent, and tiredness took over as she shifted in the comfortable cradle of his arms. She struggled to open her eyes, unwilling to admit him to her thoughts. As though she could shut him out.

A tattoo, seemingly blurred with the rain sluicing through his hair. Kathryn reached a hand to it, tracing the lines with a boldness she'd never have attempted at an earlier time. Concentration furrowed his forehead, creasing the lines, small warm undulations under her fingers. Chakotay looked briefly at her, then back to the path he was tracing around the cabin.

She was jostled slightly, and heard a murmured apology above the wind as he climbed the two steps to the cabin and opened the door, dipping her a little as he reached for the handle. Inside, warmth rolled like a blanket over her and Kathryn shivered again. She was dumped, unceremoniously, on a sofa in front of a fire.

"What are you doing?" The question again. Kathryn ignored it for a moment, then turned to face the speaker. He stood, his clothing wet from the rain, in front of her, his back to the fire. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Kathryn listened to the anger, and the underlying concern, suddenly reminded of her mother's remonstrations when she was a child.

"You're not my mother". Her first words to him, and she winced at the petulant note in her voice.

"I should damn well hope not" came the softly muttered reply. Kathryn wondered whether she was supposed to have heard it. She closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep, and protested when she was shaken awake. "No you don't, not before I've had a chance to check you're alright. And if you protest again, I'll take you back to Voyager and the doctor." She stopped grumbling at the ascerbic response, wondering where the concern had gone. Chakotay was checking the readouts on a tricorder, shifting away from the fire. Was he getting too hot? Kathryn giggled, hiccuped, then tried not to giggle again. She hated gigglers.

"Well, you're healthy enough" came the diagnosis.

"Physically" came the involuntary response. Kathryn curled up, away from Chakotay, at the admission she'd never intended to make. She felt a flood of warmth from the fire on the wet cotton of her dress, and balanced herself as the sofa cushions shifted with Chakotay sitting down, close enough to invade her personal space. Why does he always do that? Kathryn mused, her mind flitting through so many times when he stood next to her, sat next to her, leaned over to her ... she tried to haul her thoughts back to some order. A moment of clarity, and she found the edge of control she'd fought so long to maintain. Should she take it?

Kathryn's face momentarily closed into a command facade, and she heard Chakotay sigh. Then she remembered the pain she'd felt tear through her outside and slowly, deliberately, released the control of command. Her choice. This time, her choice. For the first time she turned to Chakotay, calm now with the conviction of decision. She watched him search her face, emotions she couldn't quite name flickering through his eyes.

"It's alright. I'm alright ... sort of." Her voice was quiet as she continued "I'll just go and change." She uncurled herself from the sofa, pulling the damp cloth away from her skin as she did so. The clammy folds stuck, released, and rearranged themselves against her and she shuddered. Chakotay blinked as though he'd forgotten to do so for some time, then stood with her. She noticed his wet clothes. "Perhaps you should do the same?"

"No spare clothes". His reply was short, and he seemed to be looking anywhere but at her.

Kathryn remembered she hadn't asked why he was here. How he'd found her. That would keep, though. "There's a bathrobe you can use, it's hanging on the back of the bathroom door." Chakotay looked a little incredulously at her, and Kathryn laughed - a real laugh, long unused - and added "I think it was left by a previous occupant, it's certainly not mine."

She walked through to the bedroom, not looking back at Chakotay. Shutting the door she dried herself off, the towel a warm and soft jumble against her skin leaving a pink glow behind it. She pulled a tunic and leggings from a bag, then changed her mind. It was dark outside now, later than she'd thought it would be. She changed into pyjamas, a dark peach silk tunic and trousers, and pulled a matching robe over it. She wanted comfort, and these were as comfortable as her clothes got. Leaving the room, she caught sight of herself in a mirror and a thought flickered across her mind ... how comfortable would Chakotay be? She stopped the thought before it resolved itself. Distraction wouldn't help now. Perhaps later though ...

Chakotay was sitting on the floor in front of the fire, his back propped against the sofa. Idly she watched him, and the glow of firelight on the bare skin of his calves and feet. He looked warm ... comfortable ... in the white cotton robe. He turned as he heard her walk across the floor, and she concentrated on the feel of the wood beneath her feet, real and almost alive to the touch. The fire threw Chakotay's features into sharp relief, and Kathryn realised the lights in the room had been turned off. She started to make some comment, then stopped, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that she'd noticed.

Chakotay stretched out a hand to her, and she took it as she sat on the sofa behind him. Drawing her legs up onto the cushions she braced herself against one of the arms. Chakotay's thumb started to trace soft patterns in her palm as he spoke.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He was looking straight into the fire, watching the flames leap, flicker and fade in a rhythm that just escaped recognition. Kathryn was silent for a moment, letting the gentle touch on her hand relax her.

"Yes, I think I do." Her voice was quiet, but confident. Chakotay looked around up at her, seemed satisfied by what he saw, and looked back to the fire. Silence fell between them as Kathryn gathered her thoughts, chaotic and ordered alike, and then began to speak. She talked for hours, telling him first of her choice, her decision, to talk. It seemed very important to be clear that to talk was her choice, not simply something that had happened, that she could blame later on circumstance. Chakotay nodded, not speaking as though for fear he would stop her simply by reminding her of his presence. The decisions, the commands, the fears, all spilled from her. Kathryn tried to remember her counselling sessions in StarFleet, to draw on those to remind her of the things she needed to talk about, to structure her thoughts for herself and for Chakotay. After a while, Chakotay became relaxed enough to move, to stack the fire with more wood, and settle back against the sofa, taking Kathryn's hand again. This time, she stroked his palm as she spoke, taking confidence from the feel of the skin, smooth and roughened, under the pad of her thumb.

Hours later, Kathryn stopped, relaxed and resolved in her own mind at least. The fire was still warm, the thick logs on it charring gently as the flames played over them. She found herself lying on the sofa, facing the fire. Chakotay sat in front of her, his head resting against her thighs. They were still holding hands. She looked at him, her gaze following the red-gold firelight over his face and down his neck to the skin warmed through the gap in the robe. Chakotay sat still in the silence between them, listening to the hiss and cracking of the fire in the grate, then raised his eyes to meet Kathryn's. A tentative look, unsure what he would find.

A smile uncurled across her face, answered on his.

"Thank you". Their voices mingled, and their hands gripped a little more closely.

"Did that help? You seem more relaxed." Chakotay's voice was quiet, a soft rumble through Kathryn.

"Yes," she whispered. "It did. I am." She stopped, then started again. "Why did you come here?" She wondered whether she sounded ungrateful, but Chakotay seemed not to notice.

"I'm not sure. I felt .. I felt I needed to see you."

"Perhaps I needed to see you. I thought being alone would help ... the solitude of command usually seems easier to bear alone than in a crowd, but not this time." Her voice whispered and faded into the room. Chakotay raised her hand to his mouth and brushed a kiss on the knuckles. She looked at him, the long lashes of his eyes brushing down as he raised his mouth from her hand, and she stretched her fingers to touch his lips before he could move away. He stopped at her touch, his eyes sweeping open and startled. Had he been expecting her to stop him? Probably.

Kathryn said nothing, simply traced his mouth with her index finger as Chakotay closed his eyes again. She concentrated on the feel of his skin, warmed to a soft blush by the heat of the fire, and the extraordinary softness of his lips. Like velvet, she thought. As though dreaming, she moved slowly to kiss him. Velvet. Dark, rich velvet. Chakotay opened his mouth under hers; a shuddering sigh escaped into her mouth, warm breath feathering against her lips.

"Please." Neither knew which had murmured the request, nor what it was a request for. They drew apart slowly, watching each other with a heat between them that had nothing to do with the fire in the grate.

"There's one thing I didn't talk about" whispered Kathryn, her voice quieter than ever. Chakotay waited, watching. "There's another ... matter ... I didn't mention. It's one I can't resolve alone, even with someone to talk to. And the resolution could be ... complicated, if peaceful." She paused, watching the brief reaction. "I've fallen in love with my first officer." Chakotay closed his eyes. Kathryn held her breath, then gently wiped away the single tear that threatened to spill down his cheek, curling her hand around his face.

"Thank you." His voice cracked a little, then he continued. "Thank you for telling me."

"Can we resolve this?" she asked, her hand still resting on his face. She answered her own question. "Yes." She leant forward to kiss him again. He met her halfway, taking possession of her mouth with his own, then trailing soft touches of kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Kathryn gasped when he reached the hollow at the base of her neck and nuzzled. She ran her fingers through his hair, soft under her touch, encouraging him as he moved along her body. She stretched on the sofa as he sat up and knelt in front of her. He nuzzled open the robe she wore, and gently laid his head against her briefly.

"Chakotay" A quiet prayer of a name, she thought, then couldn't think as he outlined her nipple with his mouth, dampening the robe against her skin. He flicked his tongue against her, then drew her into his mouth. The damp warmth shot through Kathryn like fire. She gasped his name, her hands clenching and unclenching. Chakotay drew away and watched her calm down a little, taking her hands in his. Kathryn opened her eyes and smiled, biting her lower lip slightly. She freed her hands from his, and slid them between the folds of his robe, pushing it back off his shoulders. It fell to his waist, held there by the tie. Kathryn left it, her hands smoothing over his skin, and began to trace the muscles that shifted under her touch. Her fingers slowly learnt his contours, the indentations and the points at which he squirmed quietly under her touch. Those points she lingered over, watching the rising desire in his face with fascination. Chakotay's breathing grew shorter and shallower, and eventually he stopped her hands at his waist. Holding both her hands in one of his, he untied her robe and slipped his other hand under the tunic she wore. Bunching the material, he slid his hand up over her body, skimming her thigh and waist, until he curved his palm over the weight of a breast. Kathryn closed her eyes and arched into his touch. Chakotay bent over her and kissed her, a breath of a kiss on her mouth and quiet words.

"Sit up" Kathryn complied. He released her hands and pushed her robe from her shoulders as she had done with his. It fell in a pool of silk, the colour of dying firelight, around her. He slid his hands under her tunic again. Kathryn held her breath, then released it as he tucked his hands into the waist band of the pyjama trousers and drew them down her legs. The backs of his fingers brushed against her legs; she felt every touch, a trail where her skin felt electric. Chakotay sat back and tossed the trousers to one side, and looked back up to her for a moment. Her hair mussed, her skin tingling from his touch and his obvious appreciation, Kathryn felt more alive than she could remember. Chakotay smiled lazily, his hand tracing her face.

"You're beautiful." Kathryn blushed, and blushed again at her reaction to his compliment. "I love you" he declared, quietly, solemnly. Kathryn leant towards him, into his embrace. They held each other for a while, murmuring endearments and reassurances in equal measures, in quiet affirmation. Kathryn let her hands wander over Chakotay's back, the skin taut and hot to her touch, and remembered the robe at his waist. She drew back, drawing her hands around his waist until she found the tie. She fumbled with it, partly in haste and partly deliberately, then let go as Chakotay's hands covered hers.

"How much do you want me to embarrass myself?" he whispered into her ear as she watched him untie the knot. He let go, and Kathryn unfolded the robe from his legs. She kissed the crook of his neck as she pushed the fabric away and felt the coarser hair of his thighs under her fingers. Trailing her hand upwards, exploring the feel of him, she took his erection in her hand. Chakotay shuddered against her, and Kathryn laughed quietly.

"Shall I stop?" she asked, her thumb following the groove in the tip, brushing over him. Chakotay growled something indistinct at the back of his throat and reached for her. He pulled her to the edge of the sofa until she sat in front of him, her feet either side of his thighs. Placing his hands on her feet, Chakotay looked at Kathryn until she returned his gaze, her hand still moving gently over the length of his erection. Never breaking eye contact he slid his hands over her legs, excruciatingly slowly, over her calves, her knees, her thighs and under the silk of the tunic she still wore. Now she closed her eyes. Chakotay stopped until she opened them again, then slid his hands up further still, brushing his fingers over the inside of her thighs until he reached soft curls and folds. Kathryn's hand had stilled, her body tense as she waited for his touch. She looked down, the sight of his hands under the tunic intensely arousing as she felt, but couldn't see, his touch. Suddenly she slid her hand along the silk skin of his erection and let go, reaching for the hem of her tunic, desperate to see his darker hands against her skin. She tugged the tunic over her head and dropped it behind her.

Chakotay's eyes followed the path of the tunic as she pulled it off, his fingers trembling against her. Kathryn smiled at him, and reached for him again. He met her embrace, and they shuddered together as they finally met with no barriers, her breasts pillowed gently against his chest as he knelt before her. Kathryn inhaled sharply at the feel of him, warm against her, his erection insistent against her stomach. She cradled his thighs between hers, and he took her face in his hands, nibbling kisses along her lips, then closing his mouth over hers. Kathryn sighed, her mouth opening to his as she helplessly rocked against him. Chakotay picked up her rhythm in the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers, into her mouth, then letting her taste the dark richness of his.

Abruptly he pulled her hard against him, his head dropping back as he shuddered again, more forcefully this time. Kathryn bent to kiss his neck, to chase the flickering firelight that bronzed his skin. She tasted spice, the fresh sharp scent like the tang of the air after a thunderstorm, and Chakotay groaned as her mouth touched his skin. He stood up, carrying her with him, and stepped a little closer to the fire. He laid her down on the rug there, knelt beside her again and sat back simply looking at her, unselfconscious in his nudity before her.

Kathryn drank in the sight of him, a redoubled arousal exploding through her, and raised herself on one elbow to touch his erection again. The softness of his skin there stimulated and intrigued her, a warm thin sheath that moved with her fingers, sliding over the heat underneath. Chakotay gritted his teeth but let her continue. Kathryn glanced up at him, noticing the muscle in his jaw clenched in relief in the soft light, then dipped her head to taste him. She licked the translucent drop at the tip of his erection, mildly salty, then slowly took him into her mouth, her lips outlining him. Chakotay's hands tangled in her hair, and he seemed torn between holding her closer and pushing her away. She tasted a little more salt, and drew back. Not this time. Maybe next.

Chakotay took a ragged breath as she released him, and she lay back on the rug.

"Come here" He complied, laying down beside her. He blocked the heat from the fire and, for a moment, Kathryn felt cold. That passed as she turned to face him and he ran his hand along her side, from her shoulder to her hip, then let his hand slide down between them to dip between her legs. Kathryn reached blindly for his mouth with her own, kissing him with a depth she couldn't have dreamed about, had she earlier dared to try. Chakotay's fingers teased her, then eased into her. She bucked against his hand, holding the back of his head in an effort to get deeper into the kiss, then raised her leg against his, over his thigh, opening herself to him in a plea he didn't miss. Chakotay slipped his hand from her. Kathryn wriggled against him until his erection nestled between her legs, and shuddered as it touched the sensitised skin there. She rocked against him and, this time, Chakotay deepened the kiss rapidly, rolling her under him as he did so.

With a deep breath, Chakotay lifted his head from Kathryn's. She looked up at him, caught and held his gaze then rocked against him again, her legs lifting around him to settle him more firmly against her. Chakotay moaned quietly, the sound rumbling through her, and slowly ... very slowly ... moved against her, into her. Kathryn fought to keep her eyes open, to watch him as she felt him stretch and enter her, a hot slow merging that found her almost in tears. Chakotay bent to kiss her again, a gentle susurration against her mouth as he breathed against her lips with the effort of control. At last fully inside, he relaxed slightly against her. For a long time, neither moved, simply watched each other. Kathryn lost herself in his eyes, almost black in the dim light, until the sensations pulsing through her became too many, too powerful, to ignore. She began to thrust against him, an almost imperceptible unconscious movement at first, growing faster and deeper as he responded. Chakotay raised himself on his hands over her, bent to kiss her quickly, then closed his eyes to concentrate on the rhythm he'd picked up from her as he slid from and into her. The strokes, shallow at first, picked up a momentum of their own as Kathryn moaned under him, her head tossing from side to side, until both of them disintegrated into a flurry of movement then stiffened and arched against each other as he lengthened further inside her with a last push that sent them both spiralling to collapse together.

The fire crackled and sparked. Kathryn opened her eyes, and kissed Chakotay's forehead as he lay against her. He murmured her name, and lifted his head a little to find her mouth with his. A gentle kiss, fulfilled and filled with promise.

 

"Favour my solemn song, for I have loved  
Thee ever, and thee only; I have watched  
Thy shadow, and the darkness of thy steps,  
And my heart ever gazes on the depths  
Of thy deep mysteries. I have made my bed  
In charnels and on coffins, where black death  
Keeps record of the trophies won from thee,  
Hoping to still these obstinate questionings  
Of thee and thine, by forcing some lone ghost  
Thy messenger, to render up the tale  
Of what we are. In lone and silent hours,  
When night makes a weird sound of its own stillness,  
Like an inspired and desperate alchymist  
Stalking his very life on some dark hope,  
Have I mixed awful talk and asking looks  
With my most innocent love, until strange tears  
Uniting with those breathless kiss, made  
Such magic as compels the charmèd night  
To render up thy charge ..."  
Percy Bysse Shelley (1792-1822)


End file.
